Twenty-Fifth Sunday of Ordinary Time (B)
One dictionary defines fear as “an unpleasant, often strong emotion caused by anticipation or awareness of danger”. Fear has always been a part of human experience. Our earliest ancestors must have feared carnivorous animals, bad weather, disease, and other, possibly hostile, tribes – among other things. Even with all the advances that civilization has brought us, many of those ancient fears remain. Each century has found new fears as well. Not only that, but each one of us has things we are afraid of – things that might not be all that dangerous in themselves, but which symbolize for us some deeper, more threatening danger. It may a fear of heights, or of the dark, or of a certain animal. It may be fear of the unexpected or the unknown. Whatever the face may be that we show to other people, most of us (if not all of us) carry in our hearts some fear or fears.
How do we respond to fear? The onset of fear usually causes a surge of adrenalin in our bodies, making us more alert to our surroundings so that we can best locate the source of our fear and then take appropriate action – “fight or flight”. That may work when the danger is a pack of wolves or a hostile tribe, but it does not work so well when the danger is disease or storms. What then? We may withdraw into ourselves as much as possible, like turtles, and hope that the danger passes us by. We may deny that there is anything to be afraid of, or deny that we are afraid. But the fear eats away at us nevertheless. So, we may look for someone obviously weaker or more vulnerable, and try to bully them in some way, thus assuring ourselves that we still have some power over our lives. We can look for scapegoats to blame, and lash out at them. We may try to grab as much as we can for ourselves in any way we can, in an attempt to ward off the fear that there just won’t be enough and in an attempt to make ourselves into people who are important or influential or feared.
Or, we can tell stories and listen to stories. We can imagine our earliest ancestors telling stories around a fire by night about how terrible monsters were overcome by great heroes with divine help. The popularity of ‘horror stories’ continues to this day. Horror stories that prove to be very popular often symbolize something that people of a given generation are very afraid of. These stories name the object of the fear, assess various responses to that object, and point to one approach that overcomes the feared thing. These stories thus help us name our true fears, evaluate ways that we might face them, and help us find the better way(s) to do so. They are, at their core, teaching moments – times when the wisdom of past generations is handed on to the coming generation. Some horror stories work better than others, of course. But the good ones have these elements in common.
In this Sunday’s Gospel, Jesus and his disciples are passing through Galilee. Jesus’ disciples are experiencing a growing fear. They have seen how a number of influential people in Israel have opposed Jesus in various ways. On the other hand, they have witnessed Jesus’ extraordinary power in his teaching and in his miracles. Jesus has asked the disciples who they think he is. Peter has declared, “You are the Christ!”. Jesus seems to approve of this, but then begins to speak of being killed by his enemies and then rising again. Peter objects to this, and Jesus corrects Peter quite directly.
The disciples, then, have felt fear that came from seeing opposition to Jesus grow. However, nearly every Jew of Jesus’ time who awaited a Messiah expected a Messiah who would be victorious over his foes – not killed by them. Moreover, the resurrection they expected was a resurrection of all the righteous on the last day. Jesus was speaking of being killed by his enemies and then rising on the third day. Not only did the disciples have the growing opposition to Jesus to fear. But Jesus wasn’t following the same script as they were. He was saying things that were unexpected and thus even more fearful.
It’s not that Jesus isn’t trying to explain things to them. At this point in the story, Peter, James and John have just witnessed Jesus’ Transfiguration and heard the Father’s voice saying: “This is my beloved Son. Listen to him.” Now, Jesus is teaching his disciples while passing through Galilee, trying to prepare them for what is coming and to help them see it in a different way. But the unexpected twist in the familiar story makes them even more fearful. They can’t hear what Jesus is saying. With fear growing in them, they respond in two ways.
First of all, they become silent. They are afraid to ask Jesus what he means. Perhaps they are even more afraid of what Jesus might say if they did ask him. So, they are silent – becoming paralyzed by their fear. They cannot understand how this talk of suffering and death fits in to Jesus being the Christ. Many of us can sympathize with this. Fear often paralyzes us, especially when something happens that does not follow our usual script.
Secondly, they get into a debate about which of them is the most important. This, too, is a response based on fear. Not knowing what Jesus means – or fearing it – they choose to ease their fears by building up their sense of self-importance. Many of us can sympathize with this as well. The more fearful we are, the more tempted we may be to blow our own horn as a defense against the fear. A whistling in the dark, so to speak.
How does Jesus respond to his disciples’ fear? He once again invites them to put away their script and to be open to a new one – one that Jesus is trying to teach them, one that is very different from their expectations. He tells them that those who are truly great in the Father’s eyes are not those who amass honors for themselves, but those who are willing to be “the last of all and the servant of all”. To bring that point home, Jesus brings a child into the conversation. This is not intended to be a cute, sentimental, “aww” moment. The child represents this new script that Jesus is offering his disciples, and us. Certainly, families in Jesus’ time loved their children as much as we do. But children had no social status in ancient times. In a society focused on gaining honor, there was nothing to be gained by inviting a child – no honor, no prestige, no “name dropping”. Because a child has no honor to offer, that child must trust in its family’s love.
Jesus invites his disciples to see that their old script is making them more fearful, more focused on personal status, and therefore more divided against one another. The way to overcome this fear, Jesus says, is pure trust in him. A trust that needs no personal status, for we are already children of God. A trust that, even if Jesus doesn’t follow our script and even if we don’t get Jesus’ script, that Jesus’ script is ultimately the best for us – even if it seems to lead us in a direction that would normally make us afraid.
Let’s relate this to our lives a little more. Isn’t it true that many of our biggest fears happen when something in life doesn’t follow our script? Or any script we can figure out? There’s the fear that our lives are ultimately absurd or empty or meaningless. There is also the fear that, when we confront some great challenge or difficulty, we will fail in some way. We will let ourselves – or others – down. That fear is tied to our personal need for esteem and status in the eyes of others.
The only way to truly face such fears is to find something or someone who is worthy of our complete trust. Jesus presents himself to his disciples – and to us – as the One who is worthy of such total trust. What the disciples don’t quite get yet is that Jesus is going to take the full danger upon himself this time, as they go on their way to Jerusalem. He will be arrested, tortured and put to death. He will take upon himself their worst fears. Then, he will rise again. Only then will the disciples understand fully what Jesus is now saying to them. They will see that fear, dishonor, suffering and even death do not have the last word. There is ultimately nothing to fear. If God is for us – as St. Paul will say – who can be against us? Just as we discovered, as children, that we need not fear that there are monsters under the bed or in the closet, so too, we discover, by trust in the Lord, that even our greatest fears as adults – as real as they may seem – are ultimately just as empty. The Lord brings even the dead to life. This is why so many people, then and now, have found the courage to live and die for the Lord. They have learned, as the disciples finally did, to trust fully in the Lord.
Does such trust make our fears go away completely? No. We will still fear. We will still feel anxious. We may feel tempted to doubt the Lord’s script and run after one that we can better understand. But it is only deep trust in the Lord that will carry us through these fears and eventually reveal them as empty. The Lord is close to us all. He has promised many good things to those who trust him. In fact, the Lord’s gifts will be beyond anything we can imagine, because the greatest gift is the Lord’s own presence within us and all around us. Fear does not have the last word. Trust will carry us through, until love, the greatest of gifts, has brought about the new creation and invited us all to the wedding feast that will have no end.